Raining
by Matthew's Muse
Summary: A one-shot with our two favorites including rain, sickness, and irritation.


It was raining outside

It was raining outside. No homework was assigned this weekend. The perfect day to sit around and do absolutely nothing. And Draco Malfoy was sick. Unbelievably sick, apparently. Ron and Harry were ready to curl up on the squishy couches in the common room and catch up with their best friend, and Draco was sick. Hermione was so annoyed that she gave Malfoy the silent treatment when she first walked in.

Not that he noticed. Currently his fever kept his eyes pressed closed and his concentration elsewhere. With the last of his strength he jinxed Crabbe and Goyle out of the room because they were being too obnoxious.

Because of his superior social standing he got his own room in the Slytherin dormitory. He didn't ask for it, but since he was the Slytherin Sex God the rest of the house decided he should have some privacy. Thing was, he had no idea how he got that reputation.

Hermione knew, but had the brains not to tell him. His head was big enough. He didn't need to know that everyone in this bloody school wanted to get into his pants. He thought only the Slytherin house did. Possibly some of Ravenclaw.

Hermione's anger mitigated a little when she saw the pathetic state he was in. It wasn't really pathetic, at least not to her, but that was how he saw it, doubtless.

Hermione dragged a chair over to the side of his bed and plopped down irritably, perhaps hoping he would notice her, and how considerate she was being, and maybe say "thanks". When no such thing happened, she took a good look. His cheeks were flushed, and sweat was nearly dripping from his forehead. Circles under the eyes. Hermione bit her lip. Okay, he was way worse than she thought he was going to be. He hadn't asked her to come over, but she'd heard from some passing Slytherins at breakfast that he was trapped in bed today.

She supposed her earlier anger was a little unfounded.

Hermione pulled her wand out of her cloak pocket, raised it, then put it back. Somehow, she thought that the traditional method of cooling a fever would feel much better than any charm would. She supposed as long as she was here, she would do something useful.

She padded silently over to the bathroom, transfigured a bath-towel into a bucket, then turned on the sink. After making sure the water was as cold as it was going to get she put the bucket under the faucet and let it fill up. She grabbed a dry washcloth and headed back.

By the time she got there Draco's eyes were cracked open, and were staring right at her. She froze. She wasn't sure why. Hermione wanted to be that sort of invisible nurse who came in, helped, then left without a trace. It would certainly help her get back to her friends faster. But that wasn't going to work if he caught her in here being compassionate. It wouldn't work at all.

Hermione watched as he saw her, squinted, shook his head, and shut his eyes again. Hermione frowned, confused. She cautiously approached his bed, and set down the bucket softly. Before she dipped the washcloth in the water, she very very slowly reached over and mopped Draco's forehead. He moved a bit, but wasn't roused completely.

It was when Hermione had placed her hand on his forehead that he chanced opening his eyes again. This time he didn't close them after catching sight of her.

"Am I dreaming?" he croaked, to all appearances sincere. Hermione opened her mouth and almost immediately shut it again. That wasn't what she expected him to say. There was an awkward silence.

"You're far too feverish for my taste, is what you are." She said at last. As long as he thought he was dreaming she was allowed to show a little raw affection. Under any other circumstances such things were frowned upon in the Malfoy code of conduct.

Even this wasn't as affectionate as sometimes she would like.

Draco leaned back into his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. "For an angel, you talk a lot." Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. HERE was her dear, sweet Draco.

She smiled. "Oh?" She asked as she squeezed out her washcloth. The water was close to being ice, she was sure. She brought it up to his forehead and dabbed.

Draco was visibly pleased. "Mmm." Draco cracked open an eye again, but they weren't glazed over like they had been before. He was awake. "What charm is that?"

"It's not a charm. It's the muggle solution to fevers." Hermione brought the washcloth back.

Instead of looking disgusted or skeptical, Draco looked impressed. Well - as impressed as he could with a rather large headache. "Really?" But before she could answer, he winced and tried to press his forehead into his pillow. Hermione noticed that he didn't moan, as would others in his position. This must also be in his code of conduct.

"Have you gone to Madam Pomfrey?" She asked as she dabbed again.

Draco's lips thinned. "That old bat? Wouldn't waste my time." Hermione gave him the eyebrow that he seemed to see through his closed eyes. "…And I couldn't get up. I would probably jump off the astronomy tower before ask for help in this dormitory."

Despite her best efforts, Hermione grew more worried. "You can't get up?" She couldn't quite hide her concern.

Draco took a closer look at her. "He-Hermione?" He asked. "Bugger. I really thought you were an angel. I must be more ill than I thought."

Hermione noticed he'd started to shake just then. "What would you like me to do?" She was glad she'd decided to come up. He wasn't doing well.

She saw his smirk and the beginning of a crude remark come to his lips, but it was lost when another wave of headache hit him. He rolled over, and Hermione had to get on his king size bed in order to get to him with her washcloth.

"Here," Hermione folded the cloth and pressed it against his forehead. "Now roll over onto your stomach."

Without a comment he obeyed, further surprising poor Hermione. This sudden (but slight) humility that was showing up was rather shocking. She straddled him, and sat on his rear end. She flexed her hand a couple times, then launched into a massage.

She leaned down to his ear. "How's that? Am I pressing too hard?"

Draco turned his head. "Love, you haven't done anything wrong yet."

Hermione didn't pretend to hide her blush, and kind of smiled a bit. "What's this? Kind words? From your mouth? You need to get sick more often."

Draco didn't exactly take to her teasing. "You don't have to be here, you know. I didn't ask for your help, miss Goody-Goody."

Hermione sighed. One step forward, two steps back. "It's best that I leave now anyway." I have a date with my two best friends as it is, she thought. She yawned. "Perhaps I'll have a nap with Crookshanks." The last part was genuine.

Draco smirked. "You won't leave."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Won't I? I came in here, I can leave just as easily." She yawned again. "My bed awaits."

"Maybe you should take your nap here." Draco looked like he was fighting his headache valiantly. "It's closer."

"I think I may have spent enough time here." Hermione found herself feeling sore about missing her date with Harry and Ron again.

Next thing she knew Draco had sat up lifted her chin and kissed her. A sweet, almost thoughtful, kiss. Hermione felt her anger melt away.

"You're going to get me sick." Hermione tried to chasten through a smile.

But Draco's smile faded, and was replaced with a scowl. "You've got Potty and Weasel to take of you." It wasn't until now that Hermione noticed just how horrible Draco looked. She was glad there asn't a mirror nearby. If he knew how terrible the bags under his eyes looked, he wouldn't show his face again for weeks.

Hermione pushed him back down onto the bed and hovered over him. "Not if I stay here." She leaned down slowly and made sure he initiated the kiss again. He had a thing about that, she'd learned rather quickly. He was the male. He will do all the kissing.

But she was the one who deepened it. It was almost painfully obvious that he was pleased. When they broke off Hermione brushed his hair from his brow and replaced the forgotten washcloth. For a brief second his face was the picture of bliss. It was a little disconcerting, really.

"You should consider a career in medi-witching." His voice was growing scratchy again.

Hermione tucked the last strand behind his ear. "I just know how to treat my boyfriend." She smirked as she watched him flinch at the term. He had pride-issues with being somebody's boyfriend, but she made sure that there was no way around it. They were dating, and he would accept that. Hermione took off her cloak and threw it off the side of the bed.

As soon as she had lain down, Draco scooted over and pressed her back to him, and wrapped his arms around her waist. "If that's what you call it." Hermione held in a giggle as he growled and tightened his hold on her. "And if Potty or Weasel even get close to you when you get sick," She felt him tuck his head into her shoulder. "I'll personally attend to their very own visit to the hospital wing."

Hermione held in another laugh as she envisioned him making out with Harry and Ron to get them into the Hospital Wing. "I'll be sure to let them know." She brought up one of his hands to her face and kissed it. "I'm glad I came up here."

Draco planted a soft, but long kiss on her neck. "Me too."


End file.
